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I won’t be around tomorrow. I doubt that any sensible words will be written by me until Wednesday at least, as will probably be illustrated if you read on. Really. I do mean that. There are important things on my mind. It’s epic monthly shop day again tomorrow, and today is pretty much gone with preparations for this vital venture. Essential mental preparation also has to be undertaken for the possible things that I could be doing wrong, but I think that this time no fault can be found to warrant handing over all my cash in fines. My nemesis. The fire extinguisher that came with the car was the wrong colour and replaced, but I can’t remember which colour that was, so both red and blue are nicely tucked in now, just in case. Said car is gleaming to within an inch of its life, and the long sand road to the tar will be inched over, to avoid a $20 fine for driving a dirty vehicle. The weather forecast has been checked. The newly, and gleefully acquired list of spot fine values has been deeply studied and tucked into the console.

I’m not paying a penny more than I have to this time. I see now also that I will have to refrain from spitting in or out of the vehicle, and thereby avoid a fine of $5. It’s never occurred to me before to spit anywhere, least of all in or out of a car window, but gross as it is, now that I know I’m not allowed to… Well… I imagine that at some point somebody must have actually spat inside their car and been seen by an appalled officer somewhere, or there wouldn’t really be any point to making it a fineable offence. Not wearing your seat belt is also $5, so, right up there with the gobbing as far as danger is concerned. Probably if you aimed it at the driver’s eyeball, and hit your target, it could very well be very dangerous. If I was that driver you would indeed be in quite a substantial amount of danger at that point. And Lord knows what could happen if you aimed such a ghastly missile into moving traffic, or at an innocent pedestrian ambling along, unknowing of the bitter fate that awaits him, to the corner store to buy a bag of chips.

I wish I could stop thinking about this now, but like one of those horrible songs you hear in elevators, and then can’t stop humming all day, the possibilities as a result of such a truly diabolical, terrible deed just keep coming. I might write a book. A tale so wondrous and literary, while at the same time down to Earth enough to impassion lovers of Archie comics, and tastefully flecked with romance, that I will instantly be shot to superstardom, riches, and adulation the world over. Well. I did say. So….

Till next time friends. xxx